The pupil of the Creator was a bottomless, swirling abyss of cosmic flesh and decaying galaxies. The absolute scale of the entity defied all mortal comprehension. Je, Rara, Sinta, and Guntur were no longer standing on a physical floor. They were suspended in the gelatinous, zero-gravity atmosphere of the giant eye, floating like microscopic parasites inside the ocular cavity of a dying universe.PROTOCOL OMEGA INITIATED. COMMENCING CELLULAR ERASURE.The voice did not echo. It manifested as a physical pressure that crushed the air out of their lungs. From the edges of the colossal iris, millions of miles away, a tidal wave of blinding white fluid began to surge toward the center. It was the tears of the Creator. A concentrated deluge of anti-matter designed to wash away the viral infection that Je and Rara had become."We are going to be scrubbed from existence!" Sinta shrieked, clutching Guntur's waist as they tumbled aimlessly through the dark, gelatinous void. Her glasses were gone,

The fall did not end with a physical impact. It ended with a complete, shattering dissolution of their senses. Je felt his physical body unravel into millions of individual data threads, scattered across an endless expanse of blinding white logic. There was no wind, no sound, and no gravity. They had been sucked directly into the cerebral cortex of the Creator, the ultimate processing center of the dying cosmic god. For a terrifying, stretched-out eternity, Je forgot his own name. The sheer processing power of the deity threatened to wipe his consciousness clean, reducing the King of Rot to a mere string of forgotten code. But then, he felt a sharp, agonizing pain in his lower lip. Je gasped, his eyes snapping open. The abstract, blinding whiteness coalesced violently into a solid, horrifying reality. He was lying on his back. Rara was straddling his chest, her pale, naked body trembling violently. She was biting his lip, her fangs sinking deep enough to draw a thick stream of his

The freezing wind howling through the massive rusted grates of the Penal Colony carried the stench of a billion decaying galaxies. This was not the sterile, mathematical cold of the server they had just destroyed. This was the absolute, filthy, neglected cold of a forgotten dungeon.Je stood his ground on the frozen steel floor. His bare, heavily scarred chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath of the toxic air. His pitch-black aura, the absolute manifestation of the King of Rot, rolled off his shoulders like thick, boiling smoke, melting the frost accumulating around his bare feet. He gripped the heavy, rusted hilt of his Claymore, the blade dripping with the residual cosmic fluids of the dead Creator.Beside him, Rara was a breathtaking vision of apocalyptic beauty. Her flawless pale skin was flushed with a deep, feverish heat, completely defying the sub-zero temperature of the prison block. The golden lotus tattoo on her chest pulsed with an aggressive, predatory rhythm. Her naked

The collision between Je and the First Sinner did not produce a spark or a flash of light. It produced a catastrophic, soundless implosion of dark matter.Je drove his bare, pitch-black fist directly into the jaw of the ancient god. The sheer kinetic velocity behind the punch was enough to pulverize a planetary core, but the First Sinner did not even flinch. The impact sank into the pale, glowing scar tissue of the chained entity, absorbed entirely by the primordial void that composed his flesh."You are throwing my own shadows at me, boy," the First Sinner whispered, his bottomless black eyes devoid of pity. "I am the well from which you drink. You cannot drown the ocean."The First Sinner raised his left hand and caught Je by the throat. The grip was absolute. It felt as though a dying galaxy was clamped around Je's windpipe. The corrosive, necrotic energy that had always protected Je, the very aura of the King of Rot that disintegrated everything it touched, began to flow backward

The midday sun of Jakarta beat down on the crushed roof of the yellow taxi. For ten agonizingly long seconds, the only sound in the bustling Sudirman Central Business District was the rhythmic, metallic dripping of Rara's highly corrosive black blood eating through the taxi's engine block. The bustling metropolis had ground to an absolute, paralyzed halt. Hundreds of ordinary human beings, dressed in crisp business suits, designer dresses, and neat uniforms, stood completely frozen on the sidewalks. Their mouths hung open in sheer disbelief. Many of them held up their glowing, fragile little smartphones, their camera lenses locked onto the two apocalyptic nightmares that had just fallen from the sky. Je stood tall on the crumpled hood of the car. He was completely naked, his broad, violently scarred chest heaving as he drew in his first breath of unpolluted oxygen. There was no sulfur. No ozone. No stench of rotting millions. The air smelled of vehicle exhaust, cheap vanilla perfum